Labor Pains of Hercules Story 1

Hercules would rather take a time out. Uncle Eurystheus wasn’t buying it.

“Come on!” Hercules whined, “This shit aint my fault. Hera had the doob and---”

“Did Hera shove the doob in your mouth?” Eurystheus demanded, “No, I don’t think so. Did she wipe out your kids? No, I don’t think so. Did she haul your rancid hinny down here to bug me? I don’t think so on that one, either. You’re the one who went to the oracle to see how you could get out of the guilts. The oracle said your ass is mine and I can work it off do I want to . Suck it up like a man, Herk. I got some jobs for you, you aint gonna believe!”

Hercules sulked. It didn’t do any good. Eurystheus was adamant, and that was that.

“Damn!” he muttered, and set out to do what he had to do.

The Nemean Lion. Sheeeesh, how unfair did it get? Knives, spears, arrows--the hunters tried ‘em all and the damn thing was still roaring around doing what it did and pissing everybody off.

Hercules fumed, which didn’t do any good either.

“Leave it to the Queen Bitch of the Universe to get somebody high and then leave him dry. Everybody on Olympus knows the harridan’s got it in for me, and it ain’t my freakin’ fault.”

That part was true enough. Daddy Zeus and his perpetual hardon was the fault. Him and his boffing humans again got everybody in trouble: the boffer, the boffee, and the boffing results.

Hercules kind of got why Hera was on his ass. What he couldn’t figure out was why she wasn’t busting Zeus’ balls on it. Or maybe she already did. There sure as Hade’s home there wasn’t going to be anymore nookie with Alcemene. Getting it up for a weasel probably wouldn’t be a problem for the old pervert. Getting it in was another matter entirely. Zeus would have to down size his dingus a whole lot to manage that. Somehow Hercules couldn’t picture that happening any time soon.

It didn’t matter anyway. Hera had it in her head that he was the problem, and there you go—his ass was constantly grass as far as she was concerned. Not only that, she kept finding new scythes to mow it down.

He took a stubborn stand on that exactly once, back in the days when he was still young, dumb, and full of cum. After all, what the hell could Hera really do anyway? Zeus was his dad, right? Daddy’s stuck up for their kids, right?

He snipped her off good (for a kid, anyway).

“Hera, you aint the boss of me! Alcemene’s my mom, and she gets the say, not you!”

Hercules knew the minute the shit was out of his mouth it wasn’t going to go.

“Alcemene,” Hera snorted, “That little weasel? Dream on, kid, if that’s all you got! And for the smart mouth? Let’s just say it aint gonna be pretty!“

Hercules ran straight to his god and his shield.

“Daaaaaadddddddy!”

Mistake number two. His god and his shield weren’t in. A pussy whipped, Hera weary, old fart was.

“Don’t be lookin’ to me, Herk. I got enough on my hands cleanin’ up my own messes!”

Hercules shook his head. The harridan bitch put him through the meat grinder from the day he was born. She went a long way beyond even that for this stunt, though. She dumped the dirty, he got covered in it, and now he had all this make up work to do.

The Nemean Lion. What a bitch.

#

Hercules hauled himself over to the village to scope out the locals. He figured it would be counter productive to re-invent the wheel, so he set himself up to get an idea on what the locals already did and didn’t do.

“Ok. So the thing can’t be killed why?”

The villagers were most informative, if not exactly helpful.

“It’s got a hide like a hippo,” one of the villagers told him.

Hercules winced. With all of the half this and three quarters that and the Gods only knew what combinations were being spawned these days, he could believe it. Centaurs, for pete’s sake? That was granddaddy’s doing, and the rest of the deities only knew what kind of kicks the old pig sticker got out of it.

The hide like a hippo thing wasn’t anything he wanted to hear, but it was a lot he needed to know. He filed it away under ‘oh shit!’ and continued to try to find out what he was dealing with.

“Ok. Bad assed heavy hide. That means no knives, no spears, no arrows. Any of you ever think of, you know, strangling the damn thing?”

There were derisive snorts around and one villager bold enough to say,

“Hey, biceps boy! You see anybody around here’s got the time to be body building in a spa? Aint any of us got daddy Zeus footin’ the bill!”

Hercules had a hundred come backs for the smart remark. He didn’t have time for any of them, so he kept probing for info instead.

“You ever think to get a club, knock it out, and then strangle it.”

More snickers, eye rolling, and exasperated sighs followed that suggestion.

“Was you born stupid or did you get dropped on your head? Hello? It’s a lion?”

The condescending attitude pissed Hercules off, but he held it in check. For now.

“Lions get distracted, don’t they? I mean, they ain’t that bright, really. Why the hell didn’t you get it looking somewhere else then boink him one?”

“Distract him with what? A human bait pile? If Hera didn’t fill you in, that’s what this is all about in the first place!”

Hercules shut up. It was for damn sure he wasn’t going to get any help from these gutless wonders. As usual, he was going to have to do it all by himself.

“Ok,” he thought, “We got strangling, bonking on the head, getting the thing’s mind off of what’s going down. Hmmmm. Backwards, bung brain! Get it looking somewhere else then knock it on the head then strangle it!”

Hercules was actually pretty proud of that thought process. It still came down to getting the thing distracted enough to get the job done, and how in the hell was he going to do that?

The muscle bound almost god went deep into chewing the problem over. He wasn’t getting anywhere until he was distracted himself. He only caught the flutter of a tunic out of his eye, but it was enough to get his attention. He turned to see who was where, and saw somebody in the tunic stretching---somebody stretching way up high, high enough to pull the tunic up to the cheeks of her ass----

“Oh, yeah!” he grinned to himself, and had his answer.


#


It took three different bait piles to draw in the lioness he wanted. When she finally did amble over, though, it was worth every bull and sheep he slaughtered. She was a sleek cat with a coat shiny enough to be mistaken for gold. Her mane was gorgeous and her eyes were just that right color of yellow. Most importantly, she was in heat.

Hercules held out a nice, bloody haunch and murmured,

“Here kitty, kitty. Come and see what Uncle Hercules has got for you!”

The lioness eyed the meat for a minute, then dropped her gaze to the front of Hercules’ tunic. When she’d had a good, long look at what was there she snickered and shook her head.

“If you haven't noticed," she drawled. "I'm hungry; and that definitely does not look like enough meat!"

Hercules cursed under his breath but he took the insult.

“So you’re tellin’ me you’re hungry enough for a really big boy, hey?”

“You got it, needle dick. And in case you weren’t listening the first time, I already said that wasn’t you!”

“ Like I would anyway! So how about the Nemean lion?”

The expression on the lioness’ face changed immediately and she actually began to purr.

“Ummm hummm! Now that’s more like it! You one of them pitiful little human things he’s been having for dinner?”

“Something like that. You want an introduction?”

“I could get interested. What’s in it for you?”

“His hide when you’re done with him.”

The lioness snorted with derision.

“Like that’s gonna happen! Yeah. Ok. Dream your dreams. You get me an intro, him and me get it on, do whatever after.”

“And you won’t stick your nose in?”

“Human, when I get laid I get laid or I rip the sucker’s head off. Trust me. If he’s still alive when he’s done, I’m not gonna have the strength to be sticking my nose anywhere!”

“Then let’s go get you introduced!”

#

The lady lion did her part. Hercules had to admit she was damn good at what she did, too. The first whiff got the Nemean Lion’s wang wanting. The way the lioness sashayed her hips got him drawn in up close and personal. When she swished her tail it was all over but the roaring.

Hercules let the two of them have a yowling go at it. What the hell? He promised the lioness a good time and it was the lion’s last blow out. They went, he watched. When he figured the big guy was done and about to retreat, he bonked the sucker on the head and knocked him out. He grabbed up the rope then, looped it around the thing’s throat, and choked the hell out of it. Once he was sure it was dead he dropped back away from it, reached for his knife, and found himself staring into the eyes of a very angry lioness.

“What?” he demanded, “I told you I was gonna kill him!”

“I wasn’t done yet!” she snarled.

“Well what in the hell do you want me to do about that?”

Hercules knew those were the wrong words the minute they were out of his mouth.

“Shit,” he sighed, and then resigned himself to doing what he had to do.

What the hell. Half of the pantheon was changing back and forth from this animal or that in the hopes of getting laid.

“Here we go again. He sighed. “Damn.”